Running
by vigilantism
Summary: Lawrence has spent his life running away. It's only at the end of it that he realizes what he was really looking for.


The first time he ran away, he was ten. Dallas had had a breakdown about a year before, going from being the star football player to a high school dropout. His parents were beside themselves about it, and that left little room for them to pay attention to Lawrence.

Lawrence wasn't a terrible student, or a wonderful student. Usually, he got Dallas to help with his homework, but after Dallas had gotten all fucked up and run away, that was out. So he remained middle of the road, ignored by his parents. They'd spent weeks looking for him before giving up on it. The cops couldn't spare the manpower for one messed up teenager, anyway, not forever. So Dallas was just a lost cause, but their parents mourned him as if he were dead.

Lawrence knew better. He knew Dallas better than they did, even though he was just a kid, or so he believed. Dallas had told him, a couple days before he left, that he couldn't take their bullshit anymore, that he wasn't a perfect person and didn't want to be. He said he'd found something "better" than school and football and their parents. Lawrence didn't really understand it until his brother was actually gone. But Dallas hadn't gone to _die_ , even at his age, he knew that.

Time passed, though, as it does. Lawrence kept going to school, listlessly, alone. He had friends, of course. He'd never been really bullied or anything, so he got through. But he cared less and less about them. No one really made him feel like he _mattered_. Dallas had. He'd always made him feel smart, and like he was more than some stupid kid brother. He'd always had time for him, a smile, _something_. Now, without him there, life seemed hollow, like there wasn't anything really _good_ to be found.

Their parents had locked Dallas's room up, leaving it alone "until he came home." Whether they really thought he'd come back or not was anyone's guess. Lawrence knew he wouldn't, because of what he'd said. He'd given up hoping for that, but he hadn't given up hope of seeing his brother again. So when his parents were asleep one night, he took the keys off the keyring in the front room and unlocked his brother's room. It was exactly the same as it had been, waiting untouched for the past year. He hadn't had anything in mind when he'd come in here, really; he just wanted to be as close to Dallas as he could. He didn't know any other way.

He spent a long time, running his hands over the books on the shelf, picking up things, looking at pictures. He laid in the bed for awhile, thinking it still smelled like his brother. After awhile, he got up again, because he knew his parents would be pissed if they found him there at all. On his way out, something on Dallas's desk caught his eye. It was just his planner from school, and Lawrence wasn't even sure why he bothered noticing it. But he did, and he opened it, flipped through it. In the back, tucked into the little folder pocket, there was a folded up piece of paper. He opened it to find an address, scribbled there in writing that didn't look like Dallas's. He stared at it, not knowing what it meant, or where it was. He put the paper in his pocket anyway, and went off to his own bed, locking the door and replacing the key so his parents wouldn't know.

He tried to find out where the address actually was. There wasn't a zip code, but it wasn't in the town they lived in. He couldn't ask his parents, of course, though they'd probably know. He didn't want them asking him questions, and he didn't want them finding Dallas before he did. He couldn't have said why, but if Dallas had left for a reason, he'd be angry if they tried to make him come back. Lawrence didn't want to be responsible for that.

He started to give up on it. He would spend time going into Dallas's room when his parents were asleep, trying to find some other idea of where the place was. It was just a street address, no business name, nothing else. Lawrence started to give up on it, thinking maybe he was wrong anyway.

One night, as he lay half-asleep in Dallas's bed, he heard footsteps in the hallway. He sat up again, wide-awake. He'd closed the door behind him, but it wasn't locked. Hopefully, whichever parent was walking around wouldn't think to look in here.

The footsteps moved away down the hall, and Lawrence started to relax. He heard a door open, then shut, and he laid back down, figuring that was the door to his parents' room. However, the footsteps returned, faster this time, and before he knew it, the door opened and the light came on. He sat up again, putting an arm up over his eyes to shield them from the intrusion of the light.

"Lawrence, what are you doing in here?" his father demanded.

"Nothing," the boy replied.

His father jerked his arm off his face and pulled him to his feet. "You don't belong in here!" he said, not quite yelling, but close to it. "How did you get in here?"

Lawrence pulled the key out of his pocket. "I just miss him," he mumbled, refusing to apologize.

His father wasn't impressed, and dragged him back to his room. He took the key, of course. "Don't let me catch you in there again," he said, and slammed the door, leaving Lawrence alone in his own room, with only the darkness and his thoughts for company. That was when he decided he wasn't going to let his parents keep him away from Dallas anymore, with all the resolve of a stubborn child.

The next night, the key to Dallas's room was gone from the key ring. Lawrence noticed, but it wasn't Dallas's room he wanted into. He'd found everything he could in there. Instead, he found his mother's purse, and took all the cash he found in her billfold. It wasn't _a lot_ , but he naively figured it was enough. With the money in his pocket next to the address he'd gotten from Dallas's room, he headed out the door, determined to find his brother somewhere in the big city beyond.

Unfortunately for Lawrence, the city was much bigger than he'd realized. He'd been across it, in the car with his family, but he didn't have a real idea of where things were, or how far away they were. He had enough money to take the bus into the actual city, but there wasn't much else he could do. It wasn't like a kid could get a hotel room, and he knew that, despite what happened in the movies. Talking to most adults like that would get him sent straight home, and in trouble.

He hadn't realized how confusing the city streets were. He asked a few people on the street about the address, but they brushed by him, ignored him, yelled at him. No one actually wanted to help, and bringing up Dallas's name was even worse. Any time he said Dallas's name, he got immediately dismissed, like it was a bad word. The streets got dirtier, darker, and the people avoided him more and more. He no longer knew how to get back, even if he wanted to. He knew he could go to the police, if he could find them, and they'd get him home. But his parents would be _furious_ , and he wouldn't have accomplished anything.

As night fell, and Lawrence's feet hurt from walking too much, he eventually gave up. He had to sit down, to rest somewhere. He got chased out of a few buildings. There was still money in his pocket, but he didn't want to use it all in one day, and he was fast learning that money didn't last as long as it seemed to when you weren't the one in charge of it.

Several days passed in a haze of asking questions and getting dismissed. One guy even swung at him, but he was small and fast and avoided it, running down the street for fear of pursuit. He spent a couple of days with a group of homeless kids who didn't seem to mind him being there. As soon as they realized who he was looking for, though, they chased him away too.

Shortly after that, he met a man who said he knew the address and would take him there. The man kept looking around suspiciously, and licking his lips like they were chapped or something. Lawrence was afraid of him, but it was the only thing he had to go on. He followed the man for a couple blocks. The buildings looked pretty deserted to Lawrence, and it dawned on him they weren't really going where the man had said. It was too late for _that_ , though. Several other young men appeared out of the nearby alleys, surrounding him. The looks on their faces were like that of hungry animals, closing in on prey. Lawrence had been afraid off and on, but never like _this_. The men closed in on him, making several lewd remarks. He stood on the balls of his feet, looking for an opening, ready to run as soon as he found one.

There wasn't one, though, and when he finally ran, thinking he'd get away, one of the men grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him back. It could have - and would have - turned ugly then, but a voice called out from the end of the alley, attracting the attention of the men.

There was a commotion that Lawrence couldn't quite keep up with, yelling and people fighting each other. The guy who'd called out had come with a couple other guys - big ones, scary ones. In the confusion, he tried to run again, and broke free - but not without being noticed. One of the big guys who'd come along chased him, and ultimately caught him.

"Dallas, are you sure this is the kid?" he called, dragging a struggling Lawrence back to the group. The men who'd cornered him were running off, leaving only the two big men…and the one who'd called out originally.

Lawrence stopped fighting when he heard his brother's name. The man holding him shoved him roughly towards Dallas.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Lawrence?" Dallas said. His voice was…different, from how Lawrence remembered. Harder. But it was definitely the same; he'd have known Dallas anywhere.

"Looking for you," he said, frowning.

Dallas shook his head. "All you found was trouble. You should go home."

"No! No way! I came all the way out here, it's been almost five days, you can't make me go home!"

"You'll just get more trouble," Dallas said, crossing his arms.

"I'm not leaving without you," Lawrence returned, stubbornly. His courage had come back with Dallas there. After all, his brother had _saved_ him from those guys. He wouldn't really send him away. Right?

As it turned out, he _was_ right. For whatever reason - probably that he didn't want Lawrence making their parents come after him - Dallas decided to listen to Lawrence's pleading. The two thugs followed them back to the car, eyeing the boy suspiciously the whole time. They talked to Dallas about things that Lawrence couldn't keep up with, terms he'd never heard. All of them started smoking by the time they got to the car, and Lawrence could feel his eyes water. Had Dallas smoked before? He was pretty sure he hadn't, at least, not anywhere he or their parents had seen. Still, Lawrence didn't want to complain and make Dallas change his mind. He seemed kind of angry already.

They drove through the streets, with the three men ignoring Lawrence almost entirely. When they arrived at their destination, Dallas took Lawrence up a long, narrow staircase. The building was one of the older apartment buildings, but it seemed like it wasn't split into tenements anymore, like one person owned the whole thing. The big guys that had been with them in the car disappeared to somewhere, leaving Lawrence to follow Dallas alone.

The room he took him to was just a bedroom, nothing fancy. Dallas clicked on the light, ushered Lawrence into the room, and locked the door. He turned, arms crossed again, and looked down at his little brother.

"Why did you really come here?" he asked, though it was more of a demand than a question.

"To find you, I told you!"

"You don't belong here, Lawr."

"Yes I do. If you won't come home then I should be here, with you. Mom and Dad don't want me, they don't care what I do. The only time they notice me is if I do something bad, like go into your room!"

"You went into my room?"

"Yeah, that's…you had a piece of paper with an address-"

"You shouldn't go through my shit!" Dallas said, angrily, uncrossing his arms and taking a step towards Lawrence.

"You weren't there! You haven't been there for a _year_!" Lawrence shot back, balling his hands into fists at his sides. They stood there like that, eyes locked. Neither of them looked away, but Dallas softened first.

"If I let you stay here, you have to give me something in return."

The second time Lawrence ran away, it was his twelfth birthday. Of course, he'd gotten no acknowledgement from Dallas. No reprieve from the things his brother expected of him, no presents, not even a nod of recognition. Dallas woke him in the early afternoon and sent him to work, waiting in a room for whoever it was Dallas would send to him. Lawrence was well aware of the date, but he knew by then that Dallas wouldn't care. Dallas was…different than he'd been before he ran away.

It was a breaking point, though. He'd done everything Dallas had asked, even when he hadn't understood what that meant. He did it to stay with his brother, and because his brother told him he _needed_ to do it if he wanted to be here. But even on his _birthday_ , he didn't get a break or anything. So instead of going calmly back upstairs that night, he broke free and ran. He had refused to do things before, and gotten in trouble for it. But he'd never actually outright _run_ , and it took Dallas by surprise. He had a good enough start before anyone could react that he was down the stairs and out the door before anyone could grab him, leaving his brother roaring orders and people coming from the side halls to try and catch him. But he was still young and fast, and he still made it. He ran down the street, with no real plan or thought. The only thing he was thinking was _get away, get away_ , and nothing beyond that.

He didn't have any money on him. He didn't have any idea how to get out of the city. But that didn't matter. Part of him was sorry the second his feet hit the pavement, because he _did_ still love his brother, but he just couldn't take it. He wasn't meant to be here. Dallas had been right when he'd come here; he didn't _belong_ here. He hoped that his brother would just let him go. He'd never tell their parents anything. It wouldn't do any good, anyway, and he knew that. Dallas would never go back. He wasn't the same anymore. Maybe Lawrence himself wasn't the same either, but he could at least _try_.

That night, he slept under a bridge. He remembered, vaguely, that he'd met a group of homeless kids when he'd first run away, and they'd been under a bridge, too. There was no one here now, though, and it probably wasn't even the same bridge. It was early spring, and but it was chilly at night. He obviously hadn't had time to get a jacket, so he was cold. But he was also exhausted from running, and from being afraid of being found, so he _did_ manage to sleep. The next morning, he started walking again. It wasn't really cold, but he was hungry…and totally lost. He knew his parents' address, of course, but he didn't know how to reach them without the cops. He was afraid of what would happen to him if he went to _them_ , though. Dallas had told him many times that what they were doing was illegal, and he'd be in trouble too. He had no reason not to believe that, so he'd stay away from cops. He'd have tried to take a taxi or bus, but without money, those things were impossible.

In the end, he decided to try to ask people for bus fare. Once in awhile, someone would feel bad for him and give him some change, but in this part of town, no one was very generous, even for someone as young and pretty as Lawrence. Finally, though, he had enough for a bus. He wasn't sure what bus to take, but he knew where the station was, and he made his way there.

Just outside the south entrance to the bus terminal, though, he heard shouts. He turned and saw the black car, stopped on the other side of the street. He recognized two guys who worked for Dallas…and they _clearly_ recognized him. He ran, away from the terminal, away from the men. This time, they were prepared for that, and chased after him.

He gave them a run for their money, but they caught him in the end. He fought them, harder than he normally would have dared, but they were bigger and stronger and meaner than he was. One of them held him still and the other pulled out a syringe. It wasn't the first time Dallas had had him drugged, so he knew what it was, but he still tried to fight it. Of course, it was a fruitless endeavor.

He woke up in one of the empty side rooms. There was a small window, but nothing else. He didn't even bother trying to stand up and go to the door; he knew it was locked without having to try it. Instead, he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. There wasn't anything to do but wait. He dozed off and on, but it wasn't real sleep.

Finally, the door opened, and Dallas came in alone. He was angry, but his face was clear - not like when he was actually on drugs himself.

Lawrence looked up at him, but did not stand.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dallas asked. His voice was soft, but that could have meant anything.

"I want to go home," the boy replied.

Dallas laughed, humorlessly. "You want to do what? You think they'd take you back, after what you've _done_?"

"You made me!" Lawrence protested.

"Not always," Dallas replied, shrugging. "Anyway, they wouldn't care about that. There's nothing for you there now, Lawrence. I told you already. You belong to _me_ now."

Lawrence hugged his knees tighter. "It's my birthday today," he said, quietly, choking on the words, trying not to cry. He didn't want Dallas to see him cry over something like that.

"So you, what, ran away because I didn't get you anything? Ungrateful little shit. I do plenty for you."

"I ran away because you don't even _care_!" Lawrence protested. "I don't want presents, I just…"

"You just what? Want the day off? You know adults don't get to take their birthdays off. Why should you? I gave you a job to do."

"But you can't even acknowledge that I exist! I don't want to do your dirty job anymore."

"Yes you do, Lawrence. Don't act like you don't want it. What else would you do, if not this? Go back to school? You'll never catch up now. You really want to just go back to your class? Be that kid that gets held back two years? Imagine what they'd say about you if they knew where you'd been." Dallas's words were soft, almost understanding, but they cut deep.

Lawrence buried his face in his arms, not knowing how to respond. Dallas was right, wasn't he? He couldn't just walk back in and go back to school. His parents had probably given up on him; if they'd given up on _Dallas_ , they'd surely given up on _him_.

"Stand up, Lawr," Dallas said, commanding it.

Lawrence hesitated, thinking of refusing. But he was tired, and hungry, and didn't want more drugs forced into his system. He still kind of wanted to run, but he'd never get anywhere now. He unfolded himself and stood up.

"Come here."

There was a longer hesitation, then.

"Are you going to hit me?" the boy asked, taking a tentative step forward.

"Do you want me to?" Dallas countered.

"No!"

"Just come here."

Lawrence did, then, figuring Dallas would go easier on him if he did as he was told. He was expecting violence, but that wasn't what he found. Instead, Dallas opened his arms and pulled the boy close to him.

"This is the only place you'll ever belong, Lawr. Here, with me. It's been a long week. You could have reminded me what day it was. I didn't mean to forget."

Lawrence brought his arms up and held on to his brother. Sometimes, Dallas _did_ remember they were brothers. It was times like that when Lawrence remembered why he'd come here in the first place.

"Aren't you angry at me?" Lawrence asked, his words half-muffled by Dallas's shirt.

"I was," Dallas said. "But I guess I can forgive you. You wanna come upstairs with me?"

Lawrence wouldn't have refused anyway, because he didn't want to get Dallas angry again. But at that moment, he didn't even _want_ to refuse.

Dallas let go of his brother, and turned and opened the door.

"Lawr," he said, causing the boy to pause.

"Yeah?"

"If you run from me again, I _will_ be pissed. You don't want to do that. There's a lot worse things than just a sedative."

Lawrence lost track of the times he ran away around the fifth time. There was always something that sparked it - a violent john, Dallas's neglect, Dallas's _attention_. The longer he stayed, the more reasons he found to leave. But they always found him. He was thirteen when Dallas drugged him and got the lizard tattoo put on his chest. After that, he couldn't even get anyone to help him at all. Dallas's notoriety in the city grew, and the chains of Lawrence's captivity tightened.

There was always a grain of truth in the poison that Dallas fed him. He _had_ grown to enjoy the things Dallas made him do, even as he hated them. He wanted Dallas's attention, his recognition. From time to time, Dallas would show that he remembered that they were brothers. But those times became fewer and fewer, until there was nothing but hardness between them. Dallas forgot - or stopped caring - how to be soft.

When he'd first started selling Lawrence to his friends, he'd always been there afterward, to clean him up, to wipe his tears away. Now, there was none of that. There was only the threat of violence if Lawrence disobeyed him, only looking down his nose, only insults. Even anything nice he had to say was immediately followed by some insult, some degradation.

Lawrence began to lose hope. There was nothing else he could do. He loved Dallas, even when he didn't want to, even when he knew he shouldn't anymore. He couldn't help it. There was no one else for him to hold on to, and he really didn't dare go home to his parents. As far as he knew, they figured he was dead. They didn't care. Dallas…okay, Dallas didn't care as much as he had before, but he was still _there_. Even if the only attention Lawrence could get from him was sexual or violent, he'd take what little he could get.

It was chance that he found the murderer. Of course, he knew about the Blind Man killer. The whole city knew, and they'd all been told to be careful. He wasn't scared, though. If he died, it didn't matter. Dallas wouldn't miss him. No one would. After the killer ran away, though, Lawrence found the tag he'd dropped, and decided to run away again. If the killer killed him, that was fine. And if he didn't…that was fine too.

He hadn't anticipated that the killer would be…anything like he was, really. But he watched him, got to know him. Dallas had been like him, once. Nice, cared about other people. They weren't exactly the same, of course, and Lawrence came to realize that as he really got to know Adrian.

He'd half-expected Adrian to just kill him when he went home with him, but he didn't. He kept expecting it. Even though he'd told Adrian he didn't need to do it anymore, there was something much darker in him. Lawrence dreamed about it, sometimes. He'd been hurt pretty badly - by Dallas, by his thugs, by people who were fucking him - but what Adrian did was something else entirely.

Of course, Dallas found him again. Dallas always found him again. But Lawrence had made up his mind, and it didn't matter. He let Dallas's thugs hurt him. He let Dallas fuck him. It didn't matter. He spent two weeks in a drug-induced haze, but he refused to give Dallas the satisfaction of seeing him cry anymore. He'd done enough of that.

Being with Adrian made him realize that he didn't want Dallas anymore. Maybe he did, in a sense. Dallas had been his brother, but he'd killed that person off with drugs and sex and money and corruption. Looking at Dallas the last time, after he'd been dragged back, Lawrence finally found that to be true, and declared it out loud. Dallas wasn't impressed, but for Lawrence, all the damage had been done.

In his mind, when he went to Adrian the last time, it was the same as every other time he'd run away. Okay, so Dallas had _sent him_ there, but he was disobeying. He had no plans to go back, not after this, and not ever. It was selfish, maybe, but what he wanted after all this time wasn't Dallas. He wanted Adrian, but that couldn't be. So in the end, the only thing left to want…was freedom. As long as he lived, he would never be free, from the violence, from his brother, from all the dirt he'd acquired since the first time he'd run away from home.

He knew Adrian would kill him. He supposed he'd known it, in a sense, the entire time they'd known each other. Eventually, one way or another, that was the end, and he was satisfied with that. He was _happy_ with that. Waiting at the end of Adrian's knife was the freedom he'd been looking for for so long.

It hurt, but not worse than anything else he'd been through. Not really.

He couldn't help wondering if Dallas would miss him.


End file.
